Terras Irradient
by the letter kaye
Summary: An AU where Muggles are widely seen as second-class. When Harry uncovers the truth about his parents' murder, he vows to stop Lord Voldemort's quest for power and undertakes his own quest for the greater good.


This is an AU where the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy of 1689 was not signed and wizards never had to go into hiding. Instead, they subjugated the Muggles and tried to bring them into the light. This will be the HP story rewritten under those circumstances.

So, things to note before we begin:

Harry's parents are still dead.

Voldemort is still out for Harry's blood.

Harry still has to defeat Voldemort.

Details will differ.

* * *

><p>"Welcome back sir, did you enjoy your game?" A thin, bony, blonde woman asked as a young man walked into the kitchen, sopping wet and tracking mud all over the spotless floor. He carefully propped his broom against the wall.<p>

He grinned and shook his head like a dog. "Yeah, if you think having a Bludger knock you into the mud counts as fun. Won though." The young man walked over to the black granite counter where the woman was expertly dicing vegetables. "And Aunt Petunia, really, you don't need to do with the formalities. It's Harry. Just Harry."

Petunia looked up and pursed her lips, disapproval clearly marked on her face. That action had always reminded Harry of a horse. "And I've told you just as many times Sir, that would be entirely inappropriate." Harry sighed. "And I'll thank you not to get mud and rain all over dinner."

Harry groaned. "Oh no, I've been so careless. Sorry about that Aunt Petunia. Don't worry about it; I'll clean up after myself. Just let me shower first," he said as he started off towards his room.

"No you wont. I'll clean it up. Supper will be ready soon. Oh and a letter arrived for you today, from Hogwarts. I've placed it on your desk. I expect it's the annual back-to-school list,"

"Thanks."

In his room, Harry found the letter just where Petunia had said it would be. Underneath the list of required materials for all fifth-year students was the Daily Prophet. Harry picked it up and scanned the headlines.

Muggle Boy Murdered by Gang of Wizards. Banned Firearms Found in Home of Half-blood Couple. Student Wizards Plan Sit-In at Ministry of Magic. Lord Voldemort to Propose New Muggle Laws.

Harry frowned. _Hermione wasn't kidding_, Harry thought, _Wizard-Muggle relations really are going to shit_. Harry had known that tensions were on the rise, of course, but it was so easy to forget the real world when one was inside the Hogwarts bubble. He brought the Prophet with him into his bathroom. The bathroom was bright and spacious. The tiles on the floor formed a picture of the Lion of Gryffindor. His parents had both retained a fierce loyalty to their old House. The bathtub had lion-clawed feet. Harry sat down and let the water run as he began reading the paper.

**Lord Voldemort to Propose New Muggle Laws**  
>Lord Voldemort of Little Hangleton has recently released several statements regarding revisions to current Muggle laws that he is pressuring the Ministry of Magic will pass. Revisions include the creation of new bureaus to regularly inspect Muggle homes, as well as a separate bureau to help first generation wizards adjust to magical life, and a new certification exam and interview that all Muggle instructors must pass in order to obtain a teaching license. The most radical proposed change however, is an amendment to the current Underage Wizarding Law that would provide magical children with training in defensive techniques against Muggles. Recent polls show that Lord Voldemort's policies are extremely well supported by a majority of ancient Wizarding families. Lucius Malfoy, a prominent resident of Wiltshire, showed great enthusiasm for the proposed changes. His comments echo many of those made by other wizarding parents: "I am a father first, and like any good parent, my number one priority is the safety of my son. If we had been allowed to teach Draco how to defend himself against Muggle attackers, my wife and I would have saved countless days of worrying when he was abducted this winter. Something like that simply should not happen in a society like ours and this is the first step towards rectifying that."<p>

Harry tossed the _Prophet_ to the floor and sank beneath the water. A picture of the Malfoy family was printed next to the article. Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa stood behind Draco. Lucius' left hand was clasped on Draco's shoulder while Narcissa dabbed a white handkerchief to her eye. They were the model family.

It made Harry's stomach turn. The Malfoys, for all their noble lineage, were some of the most barbaric people Harry had ever met. The _Daily Prophet_ painted the "abduction" like a crisis; Draco Malfoy wore it like a badge of honor. He had gone all around Hogwarts bragging about his "abduction." The story, straight from the horse's mouth, was that several Slytherin boys were vacationing in the Alps for the winter holidays. Malfoy and Blaise Zabini had gone into town, saw some pretty Muggle girls, and spent the rest of the week at their cabin. In that time, Malfoy's parents had sent him several owls, all of which returned with undelivered letters. When Lucius Malfoy discovered his son's whereabouts, he Apparated to the girls' cabin in the middle of the night and brought the two boys outside. He unsheathed his wand and passed it to his son. "_Incendio_, Draco," he said. Draco obeyed unhesitatingly, and the cabin erupted into flames. At this point in the story, Draco Malfoy would lean back away from the group he was reciting it to, cross his arms, and smile.

It was absolutely unbelievable, Harry thought, that everyone at Hogwarts should know what a complete prick the younger Malfoy was yet it seemed the entire Wizarding world could not see the same quality in the older Malfoy. This paranoia about Muggles was entirely unfounded! And since when did Voldemort become such a legitimate politician? Last time Harry checked, he was a bit of a joke in Hogwarts that only the really ancient families (_the Malfoys_) supported. Harry made a mental note to ask Hermione. He knew that Voldemort had a huge following about sixteen years ago but disappeared around the time Harry was born, and had only reentered the political sphere a few years ago. Countless rumors floated about regarding the circumstances of Voldemort's disappearance from the public eye. The most popular rumour was that he had been caught committing a horrible crime and was blackmailed into hiding (the nature of the crime varied from story to story). Another popular rumour was that Voldemort had fallen in love with a Muggle woman (who would later cheat on him) and moved to Albania to raise a family with her. That one seemed particularly unlikely to Harry.

Harry was genuinely baffled at how Voldemort managed to gain such popularity. From what he knew of politics, the man was the leading figure of the radical right whose main platform was to essentially create a caste system with pureblood wizards at the top and Muggles at the bottom.

After his bath, Harry hurried downstairs to dinner. Dinner was a quiet tense affair, as it had been since Harry's first year at Hogwarts. Since being formally inducted into the wizarding world, the Dursleys had practically ceased having conversations with Harry. Hell, Uncle Vernon and Dudley had practically ceased even glancing in his direction. His Aunt Petunia still talked to him, or rather, talked at his feet. Sometimes, Harry longed for his pre-wizardry days when they at least acknowledged his existence.

The conversation at dinner consisted entirely of Aunt Petunia asking how everyone's day was. Everyone had a fine day apparently. For dinner, Aunt Petunia had baked a fresh pie. For a moment, Harry considered having a slice with her. Then, he looked at his cousin Dudley's face. It was…well, it was pretty average sized! And for Dudley, that was tantamount to starvation. If Harry stayed to have a piece, then Dudley would do what he's been doing since the holidays began: avoid his cousin even at the cost of dessert. Harry declined. "No thanks, I think I've got some reading to catch up on." A blatant lie. No one questioned it (_Who would? He only took away from their family time_).

Upstairs, Harry scrawled out a note to Hermione:

_School lists are here! Hermione I bet you can't wait to get started on next year's material. Hermione Ron and I'll meet you at your place and we can take the Bus over to Diagon Alley—I know how you get Floo-sick. Expect us around noon!_

_- Harry_

His message to Ron was far shorter:

_I'll be at the Burrow a bit before noon tomorrow. We're gonna go to Hermione's first._

He tied the letters to Hedwig and sent her off. For awhile, Harry sat at his desk, partly waiting for Hedwig to return, and partly sketching out Quidditch plays to try with the Gryffindor team. Partly he was waiting for the Dursleys to retire to sneak a slice of the pie.

But mostly, Harry was thinking about the Dursleys and about his family. And how they were his only family.

"Petunia, he is NOT family! He's a wizard! He's not like us! He wants to see us dead—or better yet, bowing and scraping before him. Well I won't have it! Not in my house I won't!"

Ah. That would be them.

"Vernon, keep your voice down! You'll wake the neighbors! And this isn't our home, we're only the caretakers." They were walking up the stairs. "And Harry doesn't want to see us dead! He's been—he's been extremely good to us."

"He could change his mind at any moment! Even if he doesn't, his…his…his _kind_ think watching us dig our own graves is grand entertainment! Have you seen the papers today? Do you remember little Mark Evans?"

"Evans? Oh, that boy that Dudley and his friends play with sometimes?"

They were walking down the hallway.

"The very same. Well, Dudley won't be catching up with him once we get back to Little Whinging. They found the boy in a ditch yesterday, Petunia. A ditch! And you know who done it?"

Slam. Their bedroom door shut. Harry got a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He knew. Harry walked tenderly into his bathroom, afraid of what he would find.

And there, staring up at him was the _Prophet_. And in bold print, the same headline as before, only more chilling: **Muggle Boy Murdered by Gang of Wizards**. Harry read the article, and not for the first time in his life, felt a deep burning shame for being born into magic. Uncle Vernon had a propensity for exaggerating wizard crimes, but not in this case. Apparently, five newly-of-age wizards literally forced the ten-year-old Muggle boy to dig a hole and pushed him in. The walls of the ditch were enchanted to turn into mud whenever the boy tried to climb out. He drowned. The motivation behind the crime? The boy's father had "slighted" one of the wizards.

Harry's dreams were fitful that night and his scar burned. The scar was a series of three jagged lines that formed the shape of a lightning bolt. When Harry was an infant, a Muggle terrorist broke into the house in the middle of the night and tried to kidnap Harry. His parents died protecting their only son. The terrorist had died as well, so his true motives for the attempted kidnapping may never be known, but it was widely speculated that the terrorist organization wanted to use Harry as a bargaining chip. The act only served to turn away wizards who were sympathetic to the Muggle cause; the Potters had been well-known as champions of Muggle rights and were instrumental in the establishment of Godric's Hollow as a peaceful tolerant community.

In the morning, Harry found it difficult to look the Dursleys in the eyes. Aunt Petunia had asked what was wrong. Harry just shrugged it off. How was he to apologize for the crimes of his people against theirs?

He Floo'd over to the Burrow without breakfast. Once there, Mrs. Weasley fed him, as she was inclined to do with everyone who walked through her doors. Ginny, Fred, and George were eating as well. Mr. Weasley was at work.

"Great match yesterday, Harry," Ginny said shyly to him. The twins, who were sitting on either side of her, grinned to each other.

"Yeah, you looked really great out there yesterday, Harry," Fred said in a high voice.

George followed, "You know, you really surprised me. I didn't think you'd be able to see with," George's voice went up three octaves here and he clasped his hands together, "the wind whipping through your luscious black hair."

"Did you see the way he caught the Snitch, Ginny? Or were you too entranced by the way his wet clothes were sticking to his body?"

"Yeah, or—"

"Enough, boys! Let your sister alone. Ronald's upstairs, Harry dear," Mrs. Weasley interjected. At this point Ginny looked feverish and had sunk so far into her seat, her eyes were barely above the table.

"Er, right. Well, uh, thanks Ginny? I guess?" Harry mumbled while dashing upstairs.

Harry knocked on the door. Ron, who had been lazily eyeing his rather messy trunk, jumped.

"Oh, hullo mate."

"Hey Ron. Doing a bit of summer cleaning are we?"

"Cleaning's the worst. Mum says I need to clean out this room and the attic!" Ron groaned.

"Oh, for a big boy like yourself that shouldn't be so bad."

Ron was not to be convinced. "I hate the attic…There are spiders in there…Times like these I really wish we had a maid."

"Yeah, that would be—wait. What?"

Ron looked mortified. "Uh, don't tell Hermione I said that. That's not what I meant."

Unable to bear the awkward silence any longer, Harry was more than willing to let the subject go. "So, you about ready to go then?"

The two walked downstairs to the fireplace. As they passed the kitchen, Harry noticed Fred and George had bright red handprints on their faces. Ron grabbed a handful of Floo powder and tossed it into the fireplace. When the flames turned bright green, he stepped inside. "Oxford Public Floo Station!" Harry followed.

They emerged from adjacent fireplaces, two of many that lined all the walls of a great cavernous hall. The walls and floor were constructed of white stone. Each fireplace was identical and quite utilitarian. In between each fireplace was tall bin filled with small wooden cups and lids. The ceiling was made of glass. In the center of the hall was a small circular booth; glass panes separated the Floo powder dispensers from the customers. On the floor encircling the booth, black tiles spelled out "OXFORD STATION." In front of the booth was a short line of both Muggles and wizards waiting to buy Floo powder, which was portioned out in small wooden cups that were deposited in the bins by the fireplaces once the powder was used.

Outside, Harry and Ron were met with a scene less magical than any they were accustomed to; well, Ron anyway—Harry had been to Little Whinging. There were hardly any signs of magic in the town of Oxford. _Unwinged_ horses pulled carriages along cobblestone streets. Broad flat brooms pushed the dirt and filth into the gutters. For a moment, Harry thought that they were enchanted brooms as in Godric's Hollow, but then saw that was not the case at all; small boys, their faces, clothes, and hands streaked with dirt, hastily ran from street to street.

As they walked in the direction of what Harry and Ron hoped was Hermione's home, the dense crowds seemed to part before them. While Harry compared the organizational differences between Godric's Hollow and Oxford, Ron's mind pondered over other differences.

"Harry, have you noticed something about these Muggles?" Ron asked as his gaze followed a Muggle woman walking past the two.

Harry whipped his head back to look at her. The Muggle woman was in her mid-forties. She wore a severe black dress that covered everything from her neck to her toes. A tuft of white fabric tucked into the wrist of her right sleeve provided the only contrast. On her head sat a broad-rimmed hat adorned with black feathers.

"I've noticed some seem to be particularly fond of the color black," Harry observed wryly.

"I mean, don't it look like she's missing something?"

"Her cane."

"Okay. Look at those kids over there," Ron gestured towards a group of male and female adolescents. "What do you notice about them that's different from us?"

The only difference Harry could see was that the young girls were all in flouncy dresses that floated away from their bodies. The boys were dressed just as Ron and Harry were, in Harry's opinion. They all had on a vest, a button-up shirt, fitted slacks, and dress shoes. What was missing, however, were the robes.

"Oh. You mean the robes?"

"Yeah. It's just, I dunno, it looks a little _odd_ to me, that Muggles don't wear robes. I never knew that. I mean personally, I find robes quite useful—they've got pockets for your wand and whatnot, it keeps you warm, it protects you from disaster in Potions—"

"Ron, I don't think Muggles are allowed to wear robes," Harry said, recalling a conversation he once had with Seamus Finnigan.

Ron looked incredulous and snorted. "Not allowed Harry? By who? The fashion police?"

"No no, I think Seamus told me so once. And he's half-Muggle-born, he would know. His dad said to him that he didn't like wearing robes because it would be, and I am quoting, _putting on airs_. Didn't want to be confused for a wizard or something." Harry only half-remembered the conversation. Fire whiskey'll do that to you.

The walk to Hermione's home was not a long one. Very soon, they found themselves in front of a an arched trellis teeming with flowering vines. Hermione sat in a chair on the porch. A black robe and purse were draped across the back of the chair. A book lay open in her lap.

"Hermione! We're here!" Ron shouted. Hermione looked up and her serene book-reading face broke into a joyous grin.

"Ron! Harry! It is so great to see you both! How was your trip here? You guys didn't get lost again did you?"

Hermione stood up and hugged her two best friends. She wore a simple white summer dress and brown leather boots. "Shall we be on our way then? Oh, would you guys like something to drink? My parents are hosting a bridge party and I'd invite you in, but I don't think their guests would be too comfortable."

Ron and Harry politely declined. Hermione slipped on her robe and the trio walked over to the curb. She pulled out her wand and with a _pop!_ the Knight Bus appeared.


End file.
